


to have and to hold

by queenofglass



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 07:05:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofglass/pseuds/queenofglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Narcissa turned to the wizard presiding over the ceremony. Her heart had done a little flip-flop, because, strangely, she could have sworn she saw Lucius Malfoy blushing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to have and to hold

_“It’s a good match, Cissy. He’s a pureblood, wealthy, and has the Dark Lord’s favor. You’ll see.”_

Narcissa gazed into the garden below her window. The orchestra was playing a lilting, pretty tune. The marquee sat in the far corner of the property. The guests were all the elite, highborn members of wizarding society. She watched two toasts happen within seconds of each other, and could almost taste the champagne.

It was her wedding day, and she never felt so alone.

Narcissa was prepared for marriage—she had been raised for it, for this purpose. It didn’t matter in the slightest that her fiancé was practically a stranger. No, she was well rehearsed on what was expected of her, though it didn’t make the pill any easier to swallow.

She had waved away a bridal party, preferring to ready herself for this in solitude. A gaggle of twittering hens would serve as a distraction, and practically all of them would spy and gossip.

The pearls she held had been in the family for centuries. She fastened the clasp behind her neck and drifted toward the mirror.

She was a vision, white as snow, and the thought made her smile. Her name was Black, her dress was white, and she was marrying a grey purpose, a useless idea that pureblood lines could be kept that way. Narcissa believed in upholding blood purity, of course. But she wasn’t naive enough to believe that the purebloods could go on like this forever.

Lucius Malfoy _was_ a pureblood, he _was_ wealthy, and he _was_ a favorite of the Dark Lord. She had been groomed to find all of these factors attractive, but she only felt indifference. Narcissa was to be passed from one man to the other, a trade wrapped in an exquisite white dress.

The pearls at her neck suddenly felt tight. She imagined fingers laced around her throat, squeezing until the skin was blue and black and purple. _Not white, not Black. Somewhere in between. Human, maybe._

Her feelings didn’t matter, of course. Cygnus and Druella Black demanded nothing less than obedience. Her sister had learned the consequences when she married a Mudblood—complete banishment from the Blacks. _Family_ , she was told, _is the most important thing. Turning your back on them is the worst sin in this world._

At the knock, Narcissa left the mirror and found her mother outside the door. She turned her cheek for the kiss, smiled at the shower of praises, and let herself be led down the winding staircase. Oddly, she remembered to lift the hem so she wouldn’t trip.

“You’re beautiful, my dear,” her father beamed as she curled an arm through his. Narcissa had always been his favorite daughter; the youngest, the most beautiful, the most deferential. “A fine match for Lucius.”

While her mother left to tell the orchestra, Narcissa stood with her father behind the antique French doors. Her heart was beating so fast she felt faint.

“Father?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Did you ever feel nervous about marrying Mother? That . . . that it might not be the right choice?”

A shadow crossed his face. “Why wouldn’t it be the right choice? Do you think that your mother and I lack the capability in these matters?”

She backpedaled; he had always been quick to anger. “No, of course not—”

The music started up, a huge, cheerful swell. It hid Cygnus Black’s fury perfectly; no guest would hear a word of it. “Because it seems to me that you think _you_ could have chosen better. That you were thinking of turning your back on us—like your sister when she married that filthy Mudblood Tonks.”

“Father, that’s not what—”

“That’s exactly what you meant, Narcissa,” her father said coldly. “Have our lessons been lost on you? Your mother thinks you to be quite the dimwit, which is why we’ve placed our hopes on this match. Why can’t you be more like Bellatrix? She married Lestrange, then both of them were free to serve the Dark—”

“She doesn’t love him!” she said desperately. “And I don’t love Lucius, I don’t even _know_ him—”

“You will _learn_. You will learn to love him as your mother and I learned. The Malfoys have the social connections that we require. You’ll marry Lucius and care for his children, and I don’t want to hear another word, young lady.”

“Yes, Father,” Narcissa said quietly. She reached to tug at the pearls, hoping to relieve some of the pressure, but soon thought better of it. She had worn a collar since the day she was born; she might as well get used to this one.

The two Blacks were all smiles as they glided down the aisle. Whispers followed like the train of her dress— _so lovely, the most beautiful of the Black sisters, Lucius got his money’s worth._ Narcissa’s smile faltered for a moment before it glowed more brilliantly than ever.

Only when her father placed her hand in the hand of Lucius Malfoy did she allow herself to look at her husband-to-be.

His grey eyes—normally cold, like sleet—were surprisingly warm. Though he kept the rest of his face clear of emotion, a dull flush appeared on his cheeks.

Narcissa turned to the wizard presiding over the ceremony. Her heart had done a little flip-flop, because, strangely, she could have sworn she saw Lucius Malfoy blushing.

The thought itself was preposterous. The Malfoys were a clan of powerful wizards. This was a business transaction, a joining of houses and connections. Silly daydreams like that were the reason why her parents thought her dimwitted.

Even so, she couldn’t help herself. Narcissa let her gaze shift from the old man to her bridegroom. Their eyes met; he flushed again.

“Well, I declare,” Narcissa murmured, knowing the presider was almost deaf, the way he was shouting out the vows. The guests sat a sizable distance away from the altar, so her words were missed by everyone but him. “A Malfoy blushing for a Black.”

“I think any man in my position would do the same,” he said under his breath.

“Well, you have much to gain from this,” she said after a few beats. “Money, a wife, and respect.”

“And what do you gain?”

Narcissa smiled again, but it was false—more of a grimace, than anything else. “A husband, children, security . . . a gilded cage for the rest of my days.”

His fingers loosened at her words. “Have I given you reason to regard me like this?”

“My family thinks very highly of you.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Her tone was colder than ice. “If my family scorned my sister because she married for love, while praising me for marrying into money, what does that say about my intended?”

“That his family is doing the same thing,” Lucius hissed, though he was as still as stone. “That as the only child of Abraxas Malfoy, he’s been doing his duty and will continue to do so.”

She forgot her anger for a moment. In the days and weeks agonizing over this marriage, it never occurred to her that she wasn’t the only one signing her life away. The reluctant bride took her time composing a reply. The presider was nearing the end of the ceremony; they only had minutes left.

“What do you expect of me, Lucius?”

“I don’t _expect_ anything,” he corrected. “I hope that you will care for me, if not love me. I hope our marriage isn’t in vain, and that we don’t disappoint our families. I hope you understand that I’ll never have you want for anything, that my name weighs as much as yours. I hope you never shudder from my touch but if you do, I’ll leave you be. I hope I can make you happy, but I’m no fool to _expect_ anything.”

“Do you, Lucius Tiberus, take Narcissa Constance . . . ?”

“I do,” he said, and when it was her turn to speak, she answered firmly. “I do.”

“Then I declare you bonded for life.”

While the crowd cheered and clapped approvingly, the presider cast the shower of silver stars over the couple. _Almost like his eyes_ , she thought, then tightened her grip. When she turned her head, she saw that Lucius was smiling.

———

“Let’s dance,” Narcissa said abruptly.

The congratulations were dreadful. It seemed that every wizened and wrinkled pureblood had crawled out of their manor to be here. She was skilled at social decorum, but surely they’d understand that this was her _wedding_ day.

“You’re graceful,” Lucius commented when she twirled back into his arms. She laughed.

He held her there for a moment, ignoring the music, and she found that this wasn’t so bad a cage at all.

Narcissa laced her fingers at the nape of his neck, toying with the band he used to tie his hair back. Lucius dropped his own hands to her waist, forgoing the correct way to waltz, and they revolved the dancefloor together.

Love wasn’t learned—love was _earned._ He told her during the ceremony that she’d never want for anything . . . happiness, it seemed, called a fair price.


End file.
